Sunnydale
by Cynamin
Summary: Second of my "Journal of the Observer" stories - Colleen looks for a quiet vacation in a town called "Sunnydale."


##  Journal of the Observer: Sunnydale

by Cynamin

Disclaimer: "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer" and all related characters (Willow, Xander, Oz, Giles) do not belong to me, but you already knew that. Colleen is mine, and so is this story. This story takes place in the summer between the second and third seasons of "Buffy." 

Author's note: This is the second story I have written in my Journal of the Observer series. The previous one was a "Highlander" story, hence the references to Immortals. This story should stand alone, but if you want to know more about Colleen, read Entry 1: Lady T'zara. 

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_"Curiosity killed the cat."___

_Colleen Cunningham has an amazing knack for being in the right place at the right time - or should that be the wrong place at the wrong time? On her travels, chance has brought her to encounter Immortals, vampires, elves, and things that go bump in the night. She is the Observer._

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June 30, 1998 

One of the wonderful aspects of my career choice is how much I get to travel. I always wanted to travel when I was a kid, to see the world. Could never figure out how to do it, though. Even when I started traveling right out of college I figured I'd eventually have to settle down in one place for a job. Office work, uggh. How boring! Well, that never happened – my job is highly mobile. And, as a result, my life is far from boring. I've got more excitement than I can handle. 

Like last week, for example. On my way back from visiting one of my clients, I decided to stop or an evening or two in this nice looking town I'd passed on my way. Sunnydale, it was called. The town looked calm enough, like just about any suburban area I'd passed through in the last couple of years. I figured I'd spend a day there, relax, not think about Immortals, catch up on my sleep. Maybe go shopping. See what was happening. Just take a day for myself and relax. 

I found myself a room at the motel easily enough. The sun had only just set, though, and I wasn't that tired, so I decided I'd try and find the local scene. You know, a club, a bar, whatever place where everyone hangs out. So I set out with that goal, locked the room behind me, and wandered down the darkened street. 

I guess I was just planning on looking for people. You know, find someone relatively young and follow them to the local hangout. After all, I'd forgotten to ask the guy who ran the hotel, and I'd always done better just watching the people around me anyway. At least, that's what I ended up doing when I finally found someone. 

They were three kids, teenagers, walking together down the street and talking. A girl with long red hair, a boy with dark hair, and a shorter red-haired boy. A good deal younger than my crowd, perhaps, but it was worth a shot. I followed them at a discreet distance. 

I thought I might end up at a local club. Or maybe a movie theater. The worst that I thought might happen would be that I'd end up at one of their houses. I didn't expect to end up at a cemetery. The three kids wove their way between the gravestones, finally coming to a stop by a fresh grave. I watched from behind a tree as they sat across from it, saying nothing. The girl looked at a paper in her hand before speaking. 

Cemetery meetings are no place for me. This was hardly the hangout I was looking for. And they probably wanted to be alone with the dead anyway. I really shouldn't listen. But old habits die hard. 

I eavesdropped. 

(I've really got to stop doing that, you know? It keeps getting me in trouble.) 

I thought they would be speaking of the dead. Perhaps it was a friend who had died tragically and they were saying goodbyes. My mind constructed a picture where the girl brought flowers and the boys wept silent tears. Someone would give an impassioned speech about life cut short, like in a soup opera. So I was surprised when the girl's voice held no emotion at all. 

"Well," she said calmly, "this is the place." She reached into her pocket and my visions of flowers and tears were shattered by the reality of what she held; a large wooden cross. I was intrigued now and moved closer. 

"So we wait?" the shorter boy asked. 

"We wait," the girl confirmed. 

They sat for a while in silence, looking unhappy and uncomfortable. The girl played with the cross she held, while the dark haired boy pulled a long, sharp piece of wood from his pocket. This just kept getting stranger! 

The dark haired boy finally spoke. "Wake up, sleepy head!" he called at the grave. "Hey, how long does it take these guys to get moving?" 

The girl shrugged. "Giles didn't say. I don't know. I've never waited for them to rise, before." 

"Yeah, that was Buffy's job." 

"Hey!" declared the girl, "past tense rule!" 

"Sorry," said the dark haired boy. "I just meant . . . um . . . ." 

"That, until she comes back, we're . . . going to have to learn on the job," tried the other boy. 

As they continued to discuss the subject, something odd began to happen. Though the kids did not notice, distracted by their argument, from my vantage point I could see the ground move as if disturbed from underneath. I watched in surprise – and a touch of horror – as a man clawed his way from the grave and glared at the people before him. 

The girl made a sound of surprise and all three of them scrambled to their feet. She held the cross before her at the dead man's face. The boys both held their sharp sticks like weapons, pointed end towards the risen dead. The man growled at them, shying away from the cross. He turned away from them, and I could see his face. 

This was no man. His eyes shown yellow in the slight light, his brow was ridged, and as he snarled in anger, I saw a glimpse of fangs. Astonished at the scene before me, I could not decide whether I should first get my hand on my camera and document the sight or my sword and prepare to defend myself. 

Events soon decided matters for me. After a short skirmish with the three teenagers the creature decided to try for easier prey, and ran . . . 

. . . right towards me. 

I guessed it didn't know I was there. The creature vaulted over his gravestone and ran towards me at astonishing speed. In a smooth motion that would have made T'zara proud, I withdrew my sword from my coat just as he reached my hiding place. Stepping towards him with a motion that was more like a baseball swing than a good sword fighting technique, I instinctively went for the creature's neck. Before he could even register my presence, I had beheaded him. 

Then, another surprise. No sooner than his head was separated from his neck, and the dead man exploded into dust. Some of it blew back on me, disgusting! 

The kids looked at me in surprise. There was no way they were as surprised as I was at all this. I lowered my sword and smiled. "So," I couldn't help but saying, "is this what kids do for fun around here?" 

After we all got over the initial shock, the kids insisted I come with them. They wouldn't tell me more than their names in the cemetery, but that was alright with me. I needed some time to think about what I'd seen. 

I didn't have that much time to think about it. The town was rather small, so it wasn't long before we were knocking on the front door of a small house. It was answered by a rather stuffy British man, whom the girl - Willow - introduced to me as "Giles." The three of them then quickly told him of how I had killed the creature. 

There was a long silence as they finished the story. The British man looked at me seriously as he thought, and I could not help but fidget. Finally he asked me bluntly, "Do you kill vampires regularly, Ms. Cunningham?" 

I could only stare at him blankly. "Is that what he was?" I asked. 

"You mean," Giles sputtered, "you've never seen a vampire before?" 

I replied as honestly as I could. "It was just reflex. I was defending myself." 

"Some reflex," muttered the dark haired boy – Xander. 

I felt like I was being measured up by the four of them. Calmly I took out my sword and explained that I've been learning to use it for several years. Out of secrecy I did not tell them about the Immortals, just that in my "work" I often encountered dangerous traditional fighters, and I'd learned in order to defend myself. 

After what felt like the worst interview I'd ever been through and a very long night, they accepted my help the following evening before I left. Hey, I've dealt with all manner of unusual things; I wanted to know more about these "vampires." 

I spent the next day relaxing as I had planned, though my thoughts kept me from getting much sleep. I tried to distract myself by getting on my computer and working on some of my clients' accounts, but I kept thinking about the vampires and the group of kids who fought them. These kids knew a lot about these creatures, but I got the impression that they did not fight them often, or alone. They weren't telling me everything, but I wasn't telling them everything either. 

The vampires I found more troubling. I found myself remembering a family tragedy about three years ago. My father's brother and sister-in-law were murdered, their throats slit, or so the police said. Other than the bloody messages left on the walls, there was very little blood in the room or on the bodies, though the police said what had killed them was blood loss. Thinking back on it now, I had to wonder if it had been vampires instead. I hope that I will be able to speak to my younger cousin Robin soon, as she was the only one to survive that encounter. I would hate to think that I might encounter vampires outside of Sunnydale. 

The next even I met up with two of the three kids and their . . . well, I don't know what Giles is. Their leader? Teacher? Anyway, I met them at Giles' house. Another visitor to town had been killed the night before, and I joined the two kids in waiting for another vampire to rise. 

This evenings "slayage," as the kids called it, went better than the night before. The dead visitor did not rise as a vampire, but we encountered two others. Both of them the three of us killed before it was time to call it a night. Though they told me no more about themselves, their missing friend, or why they fought vampires, I think they got to trust me by the end of the evening. I listened closely to things they hinted at, but most of it made no sense. They whispered of magic, vampires, battles, and Hell on Earth. 

I couldn't make heads or tails of it, but then, I couldn't make heads or tails of most I encountered in this town. As I was preparing to leave and saying my goodbyes, I asked Willow where the shorter boy, named Oz, was. She informed me that he was a werewolf and had to be locked up that night. Huh? 

Finally, I bid my goodbyes to all of them I could. If I ever end up in that town again I hope to find that all is well with them. I would happily fight vampires along side them again. Until then, I hope to find what has become of Robin and whether I can expect to meet vampires again as I wander. It was a most . . . exciting weekend. 

Sunnydale. It was a strange enough place to visit. I wouldn't want to live there. 

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(More of Colleen can be found in my Buffy story "Holy Matrimony") 


End file.
